


Not What I Expected

by ShepardCommander



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShepardCommander/pseuds/ShepardCommander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was so much she wanted to know, so many questions left unanswered. It was why she couldn't sleep at night, why she felt herself attracted to this ancient being with views so foreign to her own. It was why she wanted to live. DISCONTINUED. MOVING TO "COMPLETE" STATUS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Restless

**Author's Note:**

> This came about as wanting to do a pairing involving people besides Shepard. I'm a little nervous to write this, largely because my fanfics have concentrated mostly on Shepard, Garrus, Miranda, or Jack. I feel like I can grasp their characters a lot better than I can Liara's, but I want to give this a try. I'm going to leave this as a set of drabbles for now, perhaps doing a more lengthy fic after I finish up Incentive.
> 
> Time period: Mass Effect 3

She liked being the Shadow Broker. It gave her a sense of control, something she otherwise didn't have. Still, there were times when it made her weary, when a feeling of hopelessness and futility would settle in the pit of her stomach as more and more agents stopped checking in, as more and more outposts went dark.

_Damn Reapers._

Sighing, Liara T'Soni leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk in front of her wall of vidscreens. Gloved hands went to rub tired eyes, her back and neck muscles tense after having stayed in the same position for hours on end. And yet, despite all her efforts, there was  _still_ work to be done.

Glancing at the time, Liara sank back in her chair and let out a groan. Another night, gone. When was the last time she had even touched her bed? With the Reapers out wreaking havoc, she needed every restful moment she could get. What if the next mission required a strong biotic and she was delirious from lack of sleep? What if she warped when she should have used stasis? What if she was so busy just trying to keep herself from falling over Shepard got shot? What then?

Liara frowned.

No, this wouldn't do.

Standing up, she locked her personal terminal and headed to the door.

"Stepping out, Dr. T'Soni?" Glyph asked cheerily from his post.

"Yes. I won't be gone too long. Please contact me if there are any developments."

"Of course."

With that taken care of, the young asari opened the door to her office and stepped out, letting out a breath and leaning against the door after it sealed shut. The crew deck was empty at this time, most of the crew asleep after a full day's worth of labor. Everyone was working, pushing themselves to the limit. But even they knew when to rest; their bodies would let them give in to the beckoning call of the dreamland. So why didn't hers?

Liara opened her eyes, a small smile touching her lips. Of course, the Commander was still up probably, doing whatever it was Commanders did when they were in charge of winning a war that would decide the fate of all species, present and future. And that was why Liara couldn't rest, why she couldn't let her herself catch a moment's break. If Shepard didn't, why should she? What made her and everyone else so goddamned special as to be allowed some peace for a few hours when their Commander was up round the clock?

"I…" Liara paused, not sure what she wanted to say or why she was speaking out loud to empty space. She hated not knowing things, especially when it was things from her own mind.

Everything she'd ever known, everything she'd ever worked for, everything she'd ever dreamed…it was all slipping away with each world the Reapers took. Her chances of getting back to her true passion, of one day settling down, of properly mourning all whom she had lost were dwindling fast, sucked into the inky black void of the beyond.

Her emotions, thoughts, memories, had all been pushed aside for the sake of the War, a War that had begun many, many years ago. She hadn't allowed herself to cry for her mother, hadn't even shed a tear when she'd learned that Shepard had died. No, she had carefully locked everything away, put back where no one could see it. But now, now that everything was coming to an end…

…it was coming out. Every insecurity, every doubt, every cry, every single little thing…crushing her, burying her in a landslide she wasn't equipped to deal with.

_For all the information I can glean, for all the data I can acquire…It seems I will never be able to process what is called the Heart._

She let out a little laugh and swallowed the lump in her throat, looking up at the ceiling. She could hear and see it all in her sleep-deprived state; the wails of the dead, the tenderness in her mother's eyes. She could feel every little mistake bearing down on her, every person she'd ever let go watching her with discerning eyes, just waiting for her to screw up again. But she couldn't, couldn't allow herself the luxury of saying, "Oops."

_Goddess, so much hinges on what we do here. But…what if we've done too little too late?_

She wanted to cry, wanted to scream and shout, but she wouldn't. Because she was Liara T'Soni, Shadow Broker, Prothean expert, archaeologist. Because she was…she was…

Her feet began moving suddenly, as if her body was on automatic. Her mind was blanking, her thoughts a jumbled and confused mess inside, heart hammering in her chest.

She was breaking, fraying at the edges, losing hope. It was only happening because of the lack of sleep she knew, but that didn't help her or make it any better. She was still losing it, still acting in this very un-Liara like manner. What would her mother say if she saw her now?

Before she knew it, she was at the door to the Starboard Observation, her fingers accessing the lock. The door slid apart, revealing the dark room looking out upon an even darker galaxy dotted with the light of numerous stars. But the room and stars weren't what caught her attention. She had seen them all before after all. No, what caught her attention was the stoic figure smack dab in the center of it all, the relic of a civilization long dead.

_Javik._

Liara entered the room, the door sliding back into place behind her. The Prothean didn't acknowledge her presence, didn't even move a muscle. Liara's hands curled into fists at her side, a sudden rage rushing through her. The bastard. The least he could was say hello or tell her to leave, but no, it was too much for him to do, too much for him to give her a nod or recognize that she was there, that she, the asari, was a person and that she had a name and—

_Wait—why am I getting mad at him?_

The anger dissipated suddenly, flowing out from her just as quickly as it had rushed in.

Why was she getting mad at Javik? Why was he the target of her rage? He hadn't done anything wrong. Well, nothing really, really wrong.

She studied him, eyes tracing along the harsh edges of his armor, taking note of how he stood perfectly still like a statue.

No, she couldn't hate him, not really. Sure, he was rude at times and condescending, but it was no reason to hate him. He'd been born at a time when love was a weakness, when strength and numbers were valued over such things as friendship and affection. Friends got you killed. Friends made you vulnerable. Friends gave you something to lose worse than your life. But friends were also what made one get up in the morning and hold the demons at bay another day, what made one fight tooth and nail to the bitter end.

_Perhaps that is why the Protheans lost._

She had always pictured the Protheans as being so much more, of being this benevolent, wise race that spread wellbeing and promoted equality for all. Looking back, she couldn't see where she'd gotten the idea—perhaps it was something that had come with the naiveté of her youth?—but it didn't stop her from being any less disappointed.

She couldn't blame Javik for her misinterpretation of his kind or even get mad at him for being what he was—Vengeance.

So then why did her blood boil whenever she saw him?

Was it because he challenged her, because his callous words held some truth to them and actually made her think from a perspective different from her own? Because he and his kind represented what would happen to them all should they fail? Was that why he was so tough on her, so unrelenting?

But even then, Shepard had informed her of his little speech on the Citadel to a crowd of frightened citizens. Why would he, the hardened soldier, give a lecture like that? Was there more to him than met they eye? What was beneath the armor, past his harsh exterior? Had all Protheans truly been like him? Had she really been so off about his kind after almost a century of exhaustive research?

There was so much she wanted to know, so many questions left unanswered. It was why she couldn't sleep at night, why she felt herself attracted to this ancient being with views so foreign to her own. It was why she wanted to  _live_.

Quietly, she strode boldly to his side, clasping her hands behind her back and straightening her posture as she looked out at the endless sea of stars.

"You're not what I expected."

Without turning around, he answered her. "I know."


	2. P is for Prothean and Primitive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time period: post ME 3

Javik stared intently at the child, refusing to let a single eye blink. He had never lost to such a small creature before and he didn't intend to now. He was strong; he had survived the extinction of his entire species, had witnessed the collapse of the Reapers, and had mastered the art of civility—mostly. His dear wife and more than half of the galaxy would disagree with him on that last point, but he was as civil as he was going to get and considered it a success.

The child hiccupped suddenly and a spit bubble formed at her mouth and popped, making her squee and clap her tiny blue hands together in delight, setting the Prothean on high alert.

_It is a trick!_ Javik thought to himself, his hands tightening their hold on the crib the child lay in, brow furrowing.  _She is trying to throw me off my guard with acts of—what did Liara call it? Ah, yes, cuteness. But she shall not succeed for I am Javik! The last of the Protheans! The Avatar of Vengeance!_

The baby cooed, distracting the ancient for a split second from his thoughts. She smiled innocently at him before jamming her right fist in her mouth, gently biting down on it as she watched him, an adorable yet inquisitive look on her face. For being barely ten months old, she was a bright little thing and her parents couldn't have been prouder. She was going to do great things one day and while Liara and Javik quarreled on what that would be—Javik was certain that she would lead a revolution that would bring the asari back to the top of galactic rule, Liara disagreed—they both knew that she was special.

There was just one problem…

She had yet to utter a single word.

_Stubborn child. But I cannot fail. The fate of the galaxy rests upon my shoulders yet again. I cannot give up_ , Javik thought to himself, even though his resolve was crumbling the longer he stared at his daughter.

He swallowed hard.

_The child is trying to throw me off with acts of cuteness,_ he said to himself again.  _But I will not be swayed from my task!_

"I will admit, you are a formidable opponent, child," he said slowly. "But even you cannot defeat me. Perhaps someday you will, but not today. Understand that this is for your own good. Now, watch my lips." For added emphasis, he pointed to his mouth. "And repeat after me… _primitive._ "

The baby moved her head to side, her expression nonplussed.

" _Primitive_ ," Javik said again slowly, enunciating the word perfectly. " _Pri-mi-tive_."

"Javik!"

The Prothean jumped slightly, so intent was he on his task that he hadn't heard Liara sneaking up on him. Steeling himself for the reprimand he was about to get, he turned around. "Yes, dear?"

Liara T'Soni frowned, anger in her normally serene eyes. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked  _very_ unhappy with him.

"What were you just doing?"

"Teaching the child to speak."

Liara huffed. "Deanna— _the child_ —doesn't need her first word to be 'primitive.' It's bad enough that you used to go around saying that like it was the word of the century."

Javik didn't have the heart to tell her that he still said it, just not around her.

"The child must learn to speak, Liara," he insisted. "I am merely choosing a word that is easy to pronounce."

Liara's eyes widened. " _Easy_ to pronounce?" She shook her head and sighed, rubbing her forehead in an agitated manner. "You were never around children much, were you?"

"No. Why?"

Liara sighed again, an expression of dismay on her face. "Javik, you can't just—"

"Pwimahive."

Liara stopped talking, and both her and her husband's heads turned to look at Deanna.

She had removed her fist from her mouth as was looking at the both of them, her brow bunched up in concentration with a look of determination in her eyes that reminded Liara very much of Javik.

"Pwimative," she said again, the word coming out hesitantly and slightly garbled, but understandable nonetheless. "Pwimative."

"Hah!" Javik cheered, smiling as his whole countenance lit up. "What did I tell you? Easy. I knew that she had it in her. She  _is_ part Prothean after all, and Protheans are fighters."

Liara groaned, a sad yet happy smile on her face. She was proud of her daughter yet felt a sense of resignation at the same. And she had thought it was hard to just get one Prothean to stop insulting others; she was going to have her work cut out for her getting her stubborn daughter to learn another word.


End file.
